To be apart of this world you must lose all morals, all your pre-conceived notions of right and wrong. When we signed our names, we signed away our lives. When you are ruled by the terror of a vengeful Lord you are bred for manipulation and murder. When you are us, you are given wealth and power, in exchange for your soul. It is natural instinct- kill or be killed. You may call it murder. But I call it survival.

He was the broken-hearted Slytherin who only looked out for himself. I was the quirky, liberal Ravenclaw who looked out for everyone but myself. We were each the points of extreme; he was emotionally detached, and my heart was too big. It was obvious he had been broken, and for some reason I made it my job to rebuild him. If I succeed or not, I would say is a matter of opinion. (banner by mr. darcy!)

“Stop lying to me. Stop lying to yourself.” He was getting frustrated with her cover. Her mask.
She bit her lip “I’m perfectly content, thank you.”
“Content, maybe, but not happy. Definitely not happy.”
She turned her head. “I never said that.”
“You don’t need to.”
On her road to perfection, some sacrifies needed to be made. The question is, which ones are worth it?

“Do you know what your problem is?” I yelled. I didn’t care who heard me. I guess that’s what happens when you go into hysterics. You tend not to care about trivial matters like volume
James smirked, “Enlighten me.”
“You’re too damn heroic! That’s what. And it’s going to kill you!”

My name is Kylie Jemison. And I killed my best friend. Yes, I am the reason James Potter is dead.

They say a girl like me only comes once in a generation. A girl like me with a gift like mine. And they would be darned to let me slip though this generation without chaining me to some all-time important mission. I had the gift after all. The gift of lying, of acting. And especially the gift of manipulation. The Mission? Spy on Sirius Black. It shouldn’t be that hard. Voldemort may be the King of Evil. But I'm the Princess of Lies.